


The Gospel According to the Beach Boys

by Dawnwind



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:21:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24983746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnwind/pseuds/Dawnwind
Summary: A sunset on the beach and a decision made.
Relationships: Ken Hutchinson/David Starsky
Kudos: 12





	The Gospel According to the Beach Boys

The Gospel according to the Beach Boys

It had been the kind of day Hutch had imagined when he first moved to southern California—he’d lay in the sand, soaking in the blissfully warm rays of the sun, seagulls wheeling above, the sounds of the waves mingling with the tunes on the radio, and Starsky beside him. This was where he was meant to be, not cooped up in a city but out by the water. In a house on a bluff—where he could wake up in the morning, look out the window and see the Pacific, always constant, always changing.

Of course, that would mean said house perched on a hillside could be subject to any number of natural disasters: mud slides in winter, earthquakes any time of the year, and fires in the fall. Not the Californian perfection he’d once dreamed of. Still—he and Starsky could withstand any of those circumstances, as long as they were together. 

It was time to decide. Fish or cut bait, as his Farfar used to say.

Starsky had practically eaten everything in the picnic basket they’d bought on the drive and was poking through the dregs of sandwiches and smashed potato chips for one or two last bites.

“Wouldn’t it be nice…” Hutch said out loud, looking over at him. Starsky’s curls ruffled in the breeze, the sky behind him streaking with golds and pinks forecasting the setting sun. 

“Hmm?” Starsky asked lazily, tipping back a bottle of coke.

 _“Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older and wouldn’t have to wait so long?”_ the Beach Boys warbled from the radio as if mimicking Hutch’s musing.

Hutch raised up on his elbows, startled at the cosmic synchronicity. 

Starsky bopped to the familiar tune, singing under his breath. He jumped to his feet and held out a hand, _“Having spent the day together—“_

Latching hold, Hutch let himself be hauled upright, _“hold each other close the whole night through…”_ he crooned to his love, slipping one arm around Starsky’s bare waist. They swayed in time, pressed close, feet moving through the sand. Hutch didn’t care if anyone walked by and saw them—this was what he wanted out of life.

 _“I wish that every kiss was never ending…”_ Starsky sang along. He was laughing, the blue of his eyes almost exactly the shade of the twilight sky. _“We could be married…”_

 _“And then we’d be happy,”_ Hutch finished, resting his cheek on Starsky’s. He felt like he was throwing off his past, just as he’d done the day he left Minnesota, and starting all over again. It was a renewal and rebirth, with one addition. He had Starsky.

“We are happy,” Starsky said softly, kissing him as the Beach Boys faded into Queen’s _You’re my Best Friend._ “You came to a decision?”

“It’s a fixer upper, it undoubtedly needs the foundation shored up against slippage, but it’s in our price range--” Hutch trailed off, peering at the clapboard house above them. In the dim light, it was a black rectangle slightly lighter than the shadowed hill. “And woe betide us if there’s a mudslide on the same day as the San Andreas decides to rhumba—“

“But it’ll be ours.” Starsky nodded. “And we’ll be off the force.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice.”

FIN


End file.
